


Cold

by abrokenpieceoftruth



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, emphasis on "defined", no defined relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 02:45:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6034963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abrokenpieceoftruth/pseuds/abrokenpieceoftruth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Humans are fragile, and Clara is more human than she thinks. In the fallout, the Doctor has to live up to his title.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this before Face the Raven aired, and imho it makes things a lot less painful if you read this with that episode erased from existence. But, your choice! Enjoy!

He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, paying no mind to the cold or the icy rain or the gathering security. All his thoughts were on the young woman, frigid and bloody, cradled in his arms. _Clara, Clara, Clara_ —her name pulsed through him at the speed of his panicked hearts. If only hers would beat as quickly.

He didn't realize they had reached the TARDIS until he was halfway through its doors. The cloister bell tolled once, echoing the frantic concern of the Doctor and the dire condition of his companion, now patient. He didn't pause for a moment, dashing to the couch on the second tier of the console room and tenderly lying her on it. "Clara," he said, kneeling down next to her. He couldn't quite keep the fear out of his voice. "My Clara, are you still awake? You need to stay awake, Clara."

Her eyes remained tightly shut, but she nodded sharply once.

That sign gave him just enough relief to keep him moving. "You just wait right here; I'll be back before you know it." He flew to the console where the results of a scan were waiting for him. It was better than he'd expected: she was hypothermic and bruised, but despite being covered in blood she didn't have any severe injuries. "What are you complaining about, Clara?" he called to her as he ran back up the stairs. "You're just a little chilly. Give it an hour and you'll be right as rain." Barely stopping, he scooped her into his arms and continued down an adjacent corridor. _Stay with me, Clara_.

"D-D-D—" Clara stuttered, and he was so surprised he almost dropped her.

"Still trying to boss me around, eh?" he interrupted quickly. "Well this time, it's my turn to be in charge, so no talking." _You don't have the energy to spare._ "Ah, here we are!"

He flung open the door to her bedroom and placed her on the couch. "Come on, sit up, nice and straight—what would your students think if they saw you slouching?" _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but you can't fall asleep or you'll die_. She opened her eyes, staring dully at her knees.

He hated to leave her, but he had to, rushing around to grab what he needed and kneeling at her side once again. A pang of relief was quickly followed by another of guilt—this would be much easier with her only half-conscious. He took on a gentler tone. "Clara, I have to take your wet clothes off now. Is that alright?"

After a moment of hesitation, she gave another sharp nod. Working quickly, he shimmied her soaked turtleneck over her head, her arms as limp as a ragdoll's.  "Good Lord, Clara, no wonder it takes you an hour to get ready! How many layers do you have on?" _Not enough to protect you_. He began to free her from her clinging undergarments. "Did I ever tell you about my friend Leela? You would have liked her, quite a fighter that one, but—" Removing the final layer, he averted his eyes until he could towel her down and pull an oversized sweater over her head. "She really wasn't big on clothes."

Her boots were next, and he struggled to keep his hands steady long enough to tug the zipper. "Her favorite outfit was effectively a leather bikini—you really have to see it to believe it." Now for the skirt and leggings. Her legs trembled as they became exposed to the open air. "To be fair, she was from a savage warrior tribe, but imagine the uproar it would have made in London! At least you're presentable when you come out—I usually had to send her back!"

He paused as he was presented with her last layer: her knickers. He'd hoped to leave them on, but even a passing glance showed they were as soaked as the rest of her clothes were. In his moment of uncertainty, Clara reached a shivering hand to her hip.

"No, no, sweetheart, I've got it," the Doctor forestalled, circling his arms behind her. "Besides," he continued with a wink, "a little embarrassment is good for you—gets the blood flowing." He was rewarded with a soft smile and a blush, and soon he was guiding her goosebumped legs through a pair of pajama pants.

Then, with a flourish, he swept a blanket around her shoulders. But one look told him he wasn't done yet—her face was ashen, and she was still shivering violently.

He resumed speaking as he darted into the attached bathroom. "Anyway, one thing I will say about Leela is that at least I didn't have to worry about her getting into trouble." After a few seconds of rummaging, he found what he was looking for: her hot water bottle. "Well, not the same kind of trouble, anyway—she was usually the one causing it." He faced the tap and turned it to the hottest setting to fill the bottle, hissing as the steaming water splattered on his hands.

"I mean you lot—" he called over the rumble, "—humans, that is—you're so… _precarious_. You're practically magnets for trouble; I can't leave you alone for a minute without you getting kidnapped or maimed or tossed into a freezing lake…" he sighed as he placed the bottle, now radiating warmth, into her lap. "Or, apparently, all three. So, you can see why I worry."

He looked her over again and, at last, saw enough improvement to curb his adrenaline. Her cheeks were redder, eyes more alert, hands more steady, but of course she was still cold. Throwing his "no hugging" rule to the wind, he took a seat next to her and pulled her into his arms.

"Are you alright, Clara?" he asked.

She nodded. "B-b-better," she answered.

"Will you promise not to run off again?"

A sharp laugh burst from her blue-tinted lips. "N-not…on…your…life."

He couldn't help but laugh too, giving her a quick kiss on the head for good measure. "That's my Clara."


End file.
